


Give me No choice (you know I can't resist)

by BatsAreFluffy



Series: Like tears in the rain [16]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice Lords - Fandom, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce left the lord pre murder spree, Day 16: begging, Hurt Bruce Wayne, Lasso of Truth, Light Sadism, M/M, Not how you're supposed to use it, Porn, Whumptober 2020, captured and forced, heed the tags and the rating., its porn, master/slave relationship gone wrong, not gunna lie, power abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27053635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatsAreFluffy/pseuds/BatsAreFluffy
Summary: The wardens of the jail/dungeon brought out one new victim a day for Lord Superman to interrogate. Sometimes they got to go back to their cell. Mostly they didn’t.Today was Bruce’s turn.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, lord superman/bruce wayne
Series: Like tears in the rain [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950151
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Give me No choice (you know I can't resist)

Lord Superman had ordered the entire resistance captured. Everyone who survived the firefight was dragged into the circular prison, thrown in a cell, and waited their turn. Whoever got picked first was dragged into the central arena, hooked to an overhead meat hook, and tortured until they gave information, angered the alien Lord enough to warrant quicker death, or when their bodies gave out. If they just passed out, it was an even chance they would wake up.

The wardens of the jail/dungeon brought out one new victim a day. Sometimes they got to go back to their cell. Mostly they didn’t.

Today was Bruce’s turn. His neighbour hadn’t come back last night, and a new shivering body was in the corner. The guards were very methodical about equal rotations. They came in at dawn, ordered him to stand against the wall, and cuffed his hands in front of him. They marched him out of the cell, down the narrow winding stairwell, and into the middle of the shallow pit. Every cell had a clear view of the performance. Everyone knew what would happen.

Just like everyone knew that if the guards didn’t deactivate your collar, and you left the cellblock, you were dead. Not punished, completely dead. Having your head blown off will do that.

Clothed in simple black tunic and pants, Bruce looked around the room. No furniture save for a long bench got in the way. The floor was polished tile, and was easily cleaned. No traction, though. His cuffs were hung from the long suspended chain, raised above his head, and cinched tightly.

Now to wait.

Not very long, it seemed. The alien was impatient. He started in on physical punishments; kicking, punching, cutting, all the usual stuff. Bruce kept quiet the whole time. Lord Superman was seething. He’d begun ranting half an hour into the display, blaming Bruce was everything that had gone wrong with the Lord’s plan for final peace. Bruce hadn’t even been a part of the Justice League by that point. He’d left years prior. He’d broken ties with everyone in the League, including Kal, and kept himself in Gotham, where he was needed.

He was baffled that Kal would blame him for anything.

“Goddamnit, Bruce, can’t you just say something?! Tell me what they are planning, tell me how many cells there are, tell me that you hate my soul, just goddamn talk!” Kal bellowed at him after 2 hours.

Bruce remained quiet, panting for breath against cracked ribs.

Lord Superman growled, and launched into the air. He disappeared.

Bruce remained in the arena. The guards did not want to go in if Kal wasn’t done yet, and remove a prisoner.

Kal returned with a glowing rope in his hands. Bruce’s heart plummeted.

The Lasso of Truth.

Lord Superman was going to use that on Bruce, and force him to talk. He had no mental block against it. Nothing he could do would stop the words tumbling out.

“You will answer me, Bruce,” Kal snarled, and wrapped it firmly around his neck, arms, hands, chest and wherever it could reach. “You are going to answer me, and you’re going to scream and beg me to stop, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Bruce tried to calm his heart rate. But the words, they had held a different meaning a long time ago for them. His heartbeat stuttered at the words.

Kal heard it.

And grinned.

“You want this, don’t you?”

Bruce shook his head, teeth clenched. He – he – mustn’t – “No,” he croaked.

“You want me to force you, don’t you, Bats?” Kal asked against his ear. “Make you take it, don’t you? Answer me,” he ordered.

How to deflect, deflect – “I miss the old days, when we were together.” True enough.

Kal shook his head. “You missed my punishing you after shifts. You miss that abuse.”

The ropes glowed, and Bruce gasped out the closest half truth at hand. “I miss our nights together, yes.” The rope settled and Bruce gasped in reprieve. It was short lived.

The thin whistle of something behind him, and pain bloomed in his thighs, multiple hits. The stinging pain seethed again as Kal brought the thin belt across his naked thighs.

Bruce gasped, and looked down. When had he become naked? Had Kal undressed him?

“Do you remember your punishment after Elliot?” Crack!

“Yes,” Bruce groaned, head hanging.

“What was it? Tell everyone, Brucie.”

Bruce shook his head, but the words punched out in time with the smacks across his asscheeks. “You – you took me – from behind – on the desk, ahhh!”

“Does that hurt, Brucie?” Kal cooed, pulling his head back by the hair.

“Please, Kal,” he whispered, tears flowing freely. “Please, why are you doing this?”

“Because. I. Can.” 

Ten rapid strikes, across the softer flesh, and Bruce was sobbing. He was sobbing from fear, hurt, and from embarrassment.

His cock was demanding attention. Lord Superman had noticed.

“I knew you’re excited about being here, Bruce, but this, this is a new way to explore your place as my slave again?”

“God, Kal, please, please, let them go.”

Superman shook his head. “They need to watch the great Batman become the cock whore that he really is.”

Each thrash got him another lashing. Each thrashing got his blood boiling, and his cock redder, leaking against his abs. Superman made very quick work of forcing his way inside, balls deep, and then grabbed the lasso. “Tell me, Bruce, tell me what makes you feel _good_? What do you want when a man fucks the great Bruce Wayne?”

He had no choice. The magic tore the answer out of him, bloodied and betrayed. “I –I want them to use me,” he choked. “Kal, please, no, please.”

“Do you tell them to go hard or soft on your asshole?”

The questions were too specific, Bruce couldn’t find a way out of them. “Hard-harder,” he sobbed, bent over, chains holding him up against Lord Superman, at the perfect height to be impaled, to be rode, to be _used_.

The alien began to thrust against him, thighs hitting the whip marks. “Just like this, Bruce.”

Bruce shook his head. Not a question, he could hold out-

“-or do you beg to be used like a ten buck whore?”

Another surge of magic, another battle lost. “I beg – I beg to be used - please no more, Kal.”

Kal started to slam into him harder, speeding up even as Bruce sobbed openly. “Are you enjoying the sex, Bruce? Does this fill up that need to be a cock whore who needs to be punished?”

No nononono – “Yes, yes, please, it does,” he moaned, thrashing against his chains.

“What else do you need, Brucie? Tell Lord Superman, your master, your owner. Tell me what my slut needs?” With a twist, he brought the edge of the lasso down hard against the back of Bruce’s neck.

Bruce cursed, bit at his tongue, but he was human, weak, helpless against this magic. “I need – I need – no, please, no, - argh! I need punish – I need to be punished, I need to hurt, to be used, to be treated like the – the - whore I am.” The magic was flaring, burning him. “I need – no – no – no –“

“Tell your master, whore.”

Bruce hung limp from the chain, legs weakening beneath him. “I need pain, I need punishment, I need to hurt, to bleed, to beg for mercy and get another lashing for daring to ask.” Tears were free flowing from his eyes, pooling on the floor beneath him. “I need to be owned,” he moaned, giving up completely. His broken voice sobbed out more pleas, even as Kal fucked him harder, burned lines of pain down his back, and lashed him a dozen more places.

When Kal was done, he reached around, and ripped off the cock ring he’d slipped in place. “Paint the floor with your filth, slave.” His own release surged out of him, deep into his newly returned pet. The broken sobbing told him he’d been obeyed.

Lord Superman pulled out, watching with interest the mix of blood, lube, and cum slide down Bruce’s legs. Tucking himself in, he walked around the crying human.

“You are going to stay like this for an hour. You will answer any question anyone asks of you, and you will feel my cum sliding out of your huge hole. When I return, I will watch the recording of the last hour, and then come in here again, and use my dumpster to relieve the pressures of my day.”

Kal stroked the side of Bruce’s face, pleased with the vacant look in Bruce’s eyes.

“And, if you beg me nicely, I will bring you to a bed, chain you spread eagle, and punish you again for disobeying me in the past. How does that sound?”

Bruce cried, shaking his head, but mouthing the words Kal most wanted to hear:

“Whatever my master wants.”


End file.
